


30th of Frostfall

by thedas_scribe (wshall)



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blades, Cloud Ruler Temple, jeral mountains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshall/pseuds/thedas_scribe
Summary: This is the rough beginning of a Skyrim fan fiction piece focusing on the thirty years between the downfall of Cloud Ruler Temple and how Delphine came to be an innkeeper in Riverwood thirty years later.





	30th of Frostfall

It was the 30th of FrostFall, Fourth Era, Year 171. The Cloud Ruler Temple came under an intense and unexpectedly overwhelming attack by the Thalmor, the Aldmeri faction that was intent on taking over the Empire. They wanted to ban Talos worship across Tamriel, and were driven to eliminate every last member of the Blades they could find. Myself and two others made way through the escape tunnels that opened up far from the Temple walls, but the Thalmor knew about them somehow...

They came out of nowhere. I counted eight Thalmor soldiers, clad in their gilded golden armor, and two justiciars, maybe three, dressed in black longrobes with gold trim. The three of us were already injured from the battle at Cloud Ruler Temple, and we thought we'd escaped clean through the tunnels below.

We were wrong. 

I was the first to come up out of the hatch, then Esbern, one of the Blades' chief historians, and then Fultheim, who was normally far from the Temple running messages and things to other Blades camps. 

As I maintained a low stance, leading us toward a thick patch of trees, I heard the thwip of a bow releasing tension, and a second later, an arrow impaled my right arm, straight through the bone. I'd been hit many times, but that was my first bone break. It was also the first time an arrow struck my sword arm. The shock of the pain shot straight through my shoulders and neck, knocking me to my knees. Esbern saw them first, drawing his bow, and Fultheim stood guard behind me, drawing his. I couldn't use mine, but I had my sword clenched in my hand, and I was not going to let it go. After all, it was the first thing I learned in training: never let go of your sword.  
The eight quickly became four, but not before Esbern was struck in the leg, and thus falling. The Thalmor elves knew me: I'd been responsible for several of our successful strikes against them on Summerset Isle and in Vvardenfell, but they did not know Fultheim and Esbern. They wanted the Blades dead, but they wanted me however they could take me.

As Esbern fell, two Thalmor soldiers and the justiciars charged at us, and Fultheim's arrows took out two of the justiciars on first shot as if they were guided by the gods. I scrambled to get a better position to at least defend myself, but as I did this, another handful of elves appeared. They would not stop coming. 

My back was against a boulder, I couldn't raise my sword arm to swing, let alone block with it, and a very tall, very slender Thalmor soldier stood over me. I was too tired to conjure a steadfast ward, so I used my left hand to grab my right, which was clenching around the hilt of my sword, and raised it as high as I could to defend his oncoming downward slash. I blocked the majority of it, but sent the tip of the blade askew, cutting deep into my cheek from below my eye to my jawline. He gathered his sword to the side and began to swing it again. Time seemed to stop for a second, and for the first time in my life, I felt fear. I'd been scared before, like the first time I encountered wolves, but this was my life. This was a mortal fear. And in times of high emotion like this, the irises of my eyes glowed. I could see their reflection on the Thalmor soldier’s armor.

He began the swing, and suddenly, a sword plunched through him from the back, spilling his entrails all over me. Fultheim yelled "Run, Delphine!! Run --" and his voice ceased with a sword swipe. I didn't see it, but I knew in my heart those were his dying words. 

Covered in the blood of my enemy, and losing my own, I turned straight toward the mountains, running as fast as I could, stumbling due to the sheer pain of the arrow in my arm and blood in my eyes, but I ran. I don't know how long I ran, but my legs were burning when I stopped, and the sun had set much earlier. It also began to snow, which means I'd made good headway into the mountains. 

It was freezing, so I found an indented rock with an overhang, and pushed myself as deep into it as I could, and I made rest there. By rest, I don't mean sleep, either. I pulled my fur cloak out of my pack and covered myself with it, also taking a couple of swigs of the Cyrodiilian brandy to perhaps stifle the pain and stay warm. I'd learned a rudimentary restoration spell in training, intended for minor flesh wounds, but I needed to seal my deeply-penetrated cheek. It worked, thankfully. I then turned my attention to my arm, which had become a deep purple from the elbow to the shoulder, and had swollen immensely. Just touching the arrow sent shocks through my body, and I had to bite down on the leather strap on my helmet to keep from screaming out. 

I thought it better to let it get colder before trying again, so I laid my throbbing arm in a mound of snow that formed next to me. 

I closed my eyes for a moment and let my head fall against the rock I was sitting against. I was exhausted. As Blades, a special force that guarded and protected the Emporer, specifically the Dragonborn Emporers of Tamriel, we were well-trained to endure such depletions of energy, but nothing in our training could have prepared me for the isolation I felt. So far as I knew, I was the only living Blade left. The Thalmor -- the High Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion -- just wiped the last of us out. 

I guess I'd fallen asleep, which I didn't intend to do, when I heard it. The thundering roar of a beast I really didn't need to attract at this point. The bear was within feet of me, perched up on his hind legs, eyeing me like his dinner. I then realized the blood all over me must have been the attractant. I'd been a bear lure this whole time. "Death be damned," I snipped in exasperation. 

I scrambled to my feet, and the chase was on again. I had no defense great enough to fend off a bear that size, let alone a hungry one. The mountains were almost pure rocks, hard on my feet -- even my armored boots, which were designed for rough terrain. But I dug into every step, darting through pines and evergreens to give some kind of obstacle between me and this hungry creature. He was getting ever closer, as I couldn't keep speed with my arm being how it was. I turned to see how close he was getting, and that's when the ground gave way. 

The fall had to be 20 feet, and I landed flat on my back on a rounded rock, the bear tumbling in after. I don't know how I survived the fall -- must have been my armor -- but the bear died on impact. I may have survived, but I couldn't move. I closed my eyes involuntarily, submitting to my body's primal need to sleep and restore itself.  
The streams of sunlight through the opening I'd fallen through woke me up much later, possibly a day later. I tried to open my eyes, but it was too bright, and I turned away. I looked over to my right to see the bear, and then to my left, to see a stream of clean water and a flat area. There were a couple of other animal carcasses, two wolves, to be exact, fresh enough to make use of the leather and bones, but not of their flesh. I sat up and looked at my arm, and the arrow had broken from the fall. I was able to pull the rest of it out with very little struggle. That's when I realized I lost my helmet in the run. This was a very bad discovery. If the Thalmor were on my tail, and if they found that helmet, they'd know I would be trying to flee into Skyrim. I say trying because I wasn't there yet. I didn't think I was even close to the highest points of the Jerrals, at this point. 

But here I was in this pit, warmer than the snowy surface, with clean water, a fresh kill of a bear, and two dead wolves who would be valuable resources for my situation.

I used that restoration spell to close off the entry and exit wounds on my arm, which also took care of the swelling and bruising, then used what was left of the arrow as a splint for my arm. I took the breasplate of my armor, and scrapped it for straps to hold the splint in place and tie my arm close to my body.

I was hungry, so I ate an apple out of my pack before getting up and setting up a small camp on the flat surface on the other side of the stream. I filled my waterskin, and used the roots from the ceiling to build a makeshift tanning rack, where I softened the hides from the animals. I couldn't leave any trace of my existence out here, but the helmet was a loss, so anything I used would have to go with me or be destroyed. I could make the animals look eaten or devoured by nature, but the armor I wore would have to be replaced. I needed nothing that shouted "Blades Agent" on my body, lest I be killed. Without an actual work bench, this would prove to be a challenge. 

It took some time, but utilizing parts of my Blades armor, some bear fat, and my steel dagger, I was able to build a supple, yet effective set of leather protection, from the boots up to the pauldrons. Out of the bones, I crafted more arrows (not very straight shooters, but decent in a pinch), and I also carved an amulet to Talos and strung it around my neck. Using the remainder of the animal skins, my cloak, and the blue fabric that I wore under my original armor, I designed a black and blue hooded cloak that was lined with fur and very warm. After careful consideration, I decided to take my pack apart and fasten its pockets around my waist, this way I could move more quickly and have better access to things I might need. 

As I was doing this, I found two potent healing potions. Two. After all this time I was clamboring about, fighting pain and using a very basic healing spell to bind up very complicated wounds, I had two potions strong enough to completely heal everything. I downed half of one, and after a few moments, my arm was still broken, but the pain was far away. It was working. I finished the entire bottle (potent potions come in greater sizes, almost the size of the brandy bottle) and let it do its work.

Even below the surface like I was, I couldn't build a fire -- smoke would be the ultimate attractant, and I wasn't ready for that, yet. I had my bottle of brandy, though. And at my small size, two shots kept me warmed up for a few hours at a time. And while it is a fermented drink, Cyrodiilic brandy isn't very strong, so I was still able to function without hobbling around like a drunk at a Tavern somewhere. That's why it's so popular among guardsmen -- keeps you warm, but only slightly loosened up, so you can still keep to your guard duties.

I continued to gather resources that were growing in the pit, including snowberries, mint, and jasmine, and I gathered honey from a vacant bee hive, as well. These weren't life sustaining resources, but they would keep me moving long enough to gather more as I went. I was unable to cook the bear's meat (not that I'd want to, but when you're desperate...) since I couldn't build a fire, but I carved a lot of fat off of it and kept it for later, just in case. 

I stayed for one more night, letting myself rest and regain any energy I could, and making sure that I'd be fully equipped and ready for the next move forward, and then it hit me. 

I still had my sword -- and I was going to need it. While it did scream "Blades Agent over here!" it would be covered beneath my cloak, for the most part. It would take a keen pair of eyes to recognize the tip of the scabbard that stuck out below the fur-lined edges. 

When it was time, just before the sun rose, I climbed out of the pit and continued my way up the mountain. By my account, I recall three dawns and dusks since I fell into the pit, and I think I missed a day in there, so it had to be around the 4th day of Sun's Dusk. 

It was snowing hard, but I was much warmer with the change of gear, and much lighter, too, since I lost the bulkiness of my pack. The air seemed thinner, too, but it wasn't much of an issue. After two days of consistent climbing, I made the ascent, and began my way down the other side of the Jerral Mountains. 

I found a ledge just before the clouds broke below my altitude, and surveyed the land before me. Riften was the closest city (thank the Gods, this town has connections to the Blades). Lake Henrich and the Treva River were directly in front of me -- a few miles away, but still within visual distance. Hope swelled in my core as I took this sight in, and realized how close I was to safety -- or at least a brief moment of reprieve. But between where I was and where I wanted to be were roads -- highly traveled roads, and Gods know what else I might come across. But I was ready. Hope was a rejuvenation of my spirit -- something I desperately needed at that exact time.


End file.
